The Next Generation
by StacieJ.19
Summary: For 19 years the wizarding world has been calm. But Kane had that rare gift of knowlege, and being the last in her blood line, she must be protected in the walls of Hogwarts, all goes as planned...but this is only year 1, with a few twists.


_**A Harry Potter Fan-Fiction**_

Chapter One: Welcome

She sat on the ground, skillfully using her fingers to mold the black clay in her hands. She made it into a bird, and then a three headed dog, and then a half-lion half-eagle; all within five minutes.

Her room was small, with only a bed in the corner, a window, and enough room for her to sit as she did now.

Three times someone knocked on the hollow metal door creating a loud echoing sound. She was startled and quickly crawled over to the door. She peeked through the gap underneath and stood up. She pushed the door open, for it opened outward, and saw a woman on the other side.

This woman was short and slim, wearing a green robe covered by a bright red cloak. In fact, the woman reminded her of the Christmas holidays, only her pointed, beak-like nose and thin, pouting lips ruined the look. Her yellow eyes studied the girl with the clay in her hands.

Uncomfortably, and without notice, the girl moved her fingers over the clay, quickly making the woman's form.

"I am Headmistress Loretta Hansen," she declared proudly, "from Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are indeed Miss Kane Sculpt?"

She nodded slowly.

"It is wonderful to meet you Miss Sculpt. Have you not gotten our letter?"

Kane stepped to the side and allowed the headmistress in. She took a step to her bed and dropped to her knees. She reached under the fragile metal frame and pulled a ripped cardboard box. She plucked a letter from the top and handed it to the headmistress as she stood up.

Headmistress Hansen thanked Kane and opened the letter. She then read to the girl, who held a perfect replica of her, what the letter said. "_Dear Miss Sculpt. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._"

Kane cocked her headto the side and waited for the headmistress to continue. She did not let on that she had a million questions circulating in her head.

"Do you wish to go? Just tell me if you do. I am the headmistress after all."

"There is no such thing as Wizards. Right?" Kane replied.

Headmistress Hansen laughed a quite light-hearted laugh. "Oh yes indeed they are real Miss Sculpt—as real as Muggles. Would you like me to prove it?"

She nodded.

The headmistress smiled and pulled a wooden wand from beneath her cloak. She flicked the air and from beneath the bed flew an old book. The hard cover was black, ripped, and bent. The pages inside had endured many years of mistreatment and many were missing. She reached out to snatch the book out of the air but it flew away from her, around her head, and into the headmistress's open hand. It flipped to a page near the back of the book. This page was neater then the rest.

All the text, excluding the title _Forgotten Bloodlines _was erased. The page was blank with a picture in the middle. In it stood a tall, smiling woman with red hair and hazel eyes. Behind her stood a taller man with black hair and blue eyes; his hands rested on the woman's shoulders as she held a newborn child.

The headmistress studied the picture very intently. She looked up at Kane and said, "I have this book as well, may I ask where you found it?"

"In a dumpster behind some Cauldron place," she admitted softly.

"I see, well you are quite correct, these are your parents. It seems this book's magic was sucked out of it though." She flipped through the pages. "None of these pictures are moving."

"Pictures don't move," Kane pointed out.

The headmistress sighed. "Miss Sculpt, you have just entered the world of wizardry, you must be willing to accept things that are quite out of your norm. Speaking of which, are you coming to school next week?"

Kane looked at the book in the woman's thin hands. "Did they go?"

"Yes, in fact they did."

She nodded. "Then I will go."

Headmistress Hansen put the book on the bed and clapped her hands. "Very well, being here as I am I must take you to buy your supplies. Here you are, hold this for me, will you?" She handed her the letter.

Kane took it and attempted to find a pocket to put it in. Her blue jeans with frayed bottoms, a hole on one knee and breaking fabric on the other had not a single pocket that had not gotten a hole in it from overuse. She chose her left front pocket. It had the smallest hole.

Fourteen different forms, that's how many the clay took on during their fifteen minute walk to the Leaky Cauldron. She was quite nervous standing behind a confident-standing woman who was well dressed. She simply wore her old jeans and a too big, stretched out t-shirt that hung so loosely her shoulder showed.

She ran her fingers through her long, black hair, pulling at knots that were years old and snapping the hair until she could run fingers through it without a problem.

The headmistress led way into the dirty-looking pub. Many people in robes sat at tables and at the bar. Only a few at the tables turned to see the two walk in. At one table, two women sat. They took one look at Kane and whispered amongst themselves with smirks on their chubby faces.

The man behind the bar nodded respectfully at the headmistress. She nodded back and walked past the bar. Kane followed very close behind. They walked into a walled courtyard with vines stretching on the back wall and over an empty trash can.

Headmistress Hansen walked to the trash can and tapped a brick above it three times. "Welcome," she said, "to Diagon Alley."

Kane's breath got caught in her throat. She was quite amazed at the many stores, likewise the hundreds of wizards in robes. She felt very out of place. The headmistress stepped through the archway in the wall.

Kane blurted, "I have no money."

"Yes, I'm quite aware. There is no need to worry. Hogwarts has a fund for those who require assistance buying school supplies. Not all families are rich you know."

At this comment Kane glared at the short woman. "I am quite aware," she hissed.

As if just noticing her attire the headmistress flinched and nodded. She turned to walk but Kane still did not move. She wasn't so happy with the headmistress any more.

"I can take care of it myself," she said, in a tone that suggested demand rather than statement.

"Allow me to join you. You are not much of a talker and you do not know your way around."

"Which store are we to go to first?"

"To get your wand, that is, in fact, the most important item you will need."

Within seconds Kane had a clay arrow in her hand that pointed forward. "I can manage."

The headmistress sighed and pulled a bag of money from her cloak. Kane took it and tied it to her hip. "Galleons are gold," she said, "seventeen of the silver Sickles equals one of those, and twenty-nine Knuts equals a Sickle. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Good. Now remember, school starts on the first of September. You will receive a ticket by owl within the week."

"Um, what do you mean by owl?" Kane asked.

"We use owls to send letters to each other. Are you sure you do not wish for me to come?"

"Quite sure," Kane said, finally stepping through the arch way. "Thank you," she snapped, walking away down the side walk.

She got a hundred odd looks but ignored them all. She didn't care if she looked like she had just stumbled into this place. Her clay led her quite reliably to her destination.

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. was the very last shop in the row. It looked small and shabby, but nonetheless Kane was thoroughly interested in the white wand on an orange cushion in the window. She pushed open the door, and within the surprising depth of the store a bell chimed. She stood calmly, taking a few steps forward and then stopping, as if a person had told her to.

She waited for the soft voice that had startled many, and when it came she simply turned her head.

"Welcome," said the thin, frail-looking man with chalk white skin and tired eyes. The man stopped and studied her outfit. "New to the wizarding world, are we?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied in a lower voice then the man's.

He nodded. "It is nice to finally see you Miss Sculpt. I knew I might one day, but your age was known to few, ah but now many will know, hm? I dare say you look surprisingly like your father. His hair was just as black and his eyes were just as blue. Such an intelligent boy; I remember selling his wand, yes. Twelve inches. Maple. A good wand.

"Your mother though possessed an oak wand. Eleven inches, good for more complex spells. But we are not here to speak of your parents, are we? No, we are here for your wand. Now tell me, which is your wand hand?"

She looked at her right hand which now held a clay figure she did not even remember making. She switched the figure into her left hand and held out her right hand.

Mr. Ollivander nodded. He pulled from the pocket of his robe a long tape measure with silver markings. He set the tape measure up from arm pit to finger tips and let it go, allowing it to have its way measuring her.

"I should tell you that I have not had a new-comer into our word come in without an escort in quite some time. I must say that the last time did not turn out so well. He was a young wizard named Tom Riddle. You probably do not know about him, but some of the things he did with that wand I sold him are not worth words. I did not know what that thirteen-and-a-half inch Yew wand was going out in the world to do…Here is something that may work for you."

He pulled a wand from a box on a high shelf and walked over to her. Her eyes were crossed watching the tape measure measure her nose. "That's enough," said Mr. Ollivander. The tape measure fell. He handed Kane the wand and said, "Here, try this one. It seems right. Ebony, ten inches, phoenix feather."

She looked at the wand unsurely and waved it just a bit. Nothing happened. Mr. Ollivander took the wand from between her fingers and went back to the shelves, saying meanwhile, "It is the wand that chooses the wizard—you will see. You know, every Ollivander wand contains a core of powerful magical substance. I use unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers, and the heartstring of a dragon, and just as no two unicorns, phoenixes, or dragons are the same, neither are my wands. And you will not get the same effect using another wizard's wand. Ah, here, try this."

He handed her the wand. She did her pathetic shaking and he took it back again. He handed her one after another, and wand after wand was rejected. Finally as he searched for another wand for her to try she looked at the figure in her hand to find that without her notice she had remodeled it. It was now in the shape of a small wand. She held it close to her face in attempt to make out the small detailing.

Mr. Ollivander turned, a wand in his hand. He handed it to her and took away the clay, studying it. She waved the wand again but nothing happened. He snatched it from her, threw the clay into her waiting hands, but it jumped out and eluded her grasp until nearly hitting the floor.

"That wand…I have it here somewhere," he mumbled. Finally he found it and handed it to her.

As soon the wood touched her skin she felt a warmth move through her arm. Instinctively she raised the wand, and in a single sweeping motion, sliced the air, creating a fury of silver sparks from the tip.

He nodded and took the wand from her again. Walking behind the cluttered counter he packed it securely in a box and shook his head, mumbling incomprehensible words.

"Excuse me," Kane said, "but what are you saying?"

"This wand is no ordinary one. About two thousand years ago a wand-maker in Russia decided to experiment with wand making. He combined two cores and put them into a single fourteen inch, mahogany wand. He chose phoenix feather and dragon heartstring. It is odd that you are to get this wand. Ah, but this is no matter. Surely by now the wand will fall into good hands."

She paid seven Galleons and left the store. The rest of her shopping day was a breeze. She had to shop for books in a second-hand shop, as well as for her robes. She bought only what she needed, knowing that her money was limited. In the end she was left with nineteen Sickles; more then she expected to be left with. But then she remembered not having bought the book _Recent Wizard History _by Albert Galshawk, the very same one she had in her room.

With her extra money she walked back into the second hand book shop and bought a journal and extra ink for her quill pen. She still had money after this too and grabbed herself a quick bite to eat. She hadn't spent a lot and had over a Galleon's worth left.

She dragged everything home in her new trunk. It was not the biggest trunk they had had in the store, but it did the job just right. She dragged it up the stairs and into her room. She searched for a place to put it, and once she moved her bed closer to the wall and window it fit at the end, in front of the door.

She closed the door and opened her trunk, organizing everything in it. She then picked up the history book from her bed and put in the trunk. Kane reached under her bed, and pulled out her few items. She placed them in and shut the lid. It snapped shut.

She fell asleep happily that night.

**AN: **This is my first Harry Potter fan fiction, and actually my first fan fiction in a while. I'm not sure how good it is, so can you please review? I'd appreciate it. :)


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